Picture by Lisa Cradduck
End of year list season is always full-on here at tQ. It’s a slog to put together given our tiny part-time editorial team and the fact our website is by now so creaky that it’s prone to catastrophic collapse at any moment, notwithstanding the constant procession of minor illnesses that seem to be repeatedly pounding our flimsy post-lockdown immune systems.
At the same time though, there’s no time of year I feel prouder to write for tQ than when I’m copy and pasting Bandcamp embeds through the fog of a mystery viral infection. Over the course of the year, all this brilliant and bizarre music comes so thick and fast that it feels like a constant, frantic rush for us to keep up, like deckhands bailing out a leaky boat. When they’re all compiled and organised in a lovely neat list, however, it’s like stepping onto the shore and looking back at a magnificent ocean, teeming and crashing with energy and life.
My favourite comments we get on social media once the charts are published, are from people ticking off how many they’ve actually heard – or sometimes heard of – out of the top 100. That’s because, as I paste those embeds, I’m ticking it off too. I’m just one of a number of people polled for the end of year charts, and there’s always a host of stuff that slipped through the cracks for me entirely over the course of the last twelve months.
I find a particular joy in the chart you’re about to read, which rounds up our favourite reissues, mixes, live albums, compilations, OSTs, split cassettes and general miscellany. The nature of my job here at tQ means that during the year, I’m usually focussed on new music; the reissues chart gives me a chance to immerse myself in a whole parallel universe of records that I was forced to put to one side until now.
At this point, I should point out that for all these end of year treats, we’d be completely unable to bring them to you without our paying subscribers. It’s no exaggeration to say that from my first day at tQ on work experience in 2016 until the launch of our Steady platform just over a year ago, almost every minute was spent in the fear that we were teetering on the edge of the closure suffered by so many of our contemporary independent culture sites. Not only have our subscribers removed that particular sword of Damocles – they’ve allowed us to increase the rates we pay our writers, and commission some of the boldest content in the site’s history.
The peril’s not over yet though – as John Doran mentioned in his introduction to the main Albums Of The Year round-up, our ancient old site is crashing more than ever, and we live in fear of one day being unable to revive it. So if you’re in the financial position to do so, we would love for you to take out a subscription. In return, there are some unbelievable perks (60 a year!) that have been a joy to put together. There are playlists (including an eight-hour Albums Of The Year mega-playlist), long-form essays from the likes of David Keenan and Kat Lister, podcasts with guests including Shirley Collins, Nicky Wire and Colin Newman, and specially commissioned albums and singles from GNOD, Sleaford Mods, Alison Cotton and more that you can’t hear anywhere else. If you sign up before Christmas, we’re offering almost 40% off the top asking price too!
I do hope that at the very least, you find something that you love as much as we do in the chart below. It has been, as ever, a joy to bring it to you.
Patrick Clarke
This chart was compiled by John Doran and built by Patrick Clarke and Christian Eede. Ballots were taken from Robert Barry, Charlie Brigden, Jaša Bužinel, Patrick Clarke, John Doran, Christian Eede, Noel Gardner, Ella Kemp, Fergal Kinney, Sean Kitching, Jennifer Lucy Allan, Peter Margasak, David McKenna, JR Moores, Eoin Murray, Stephanie Phillips, Luke Turner, Kez Whelan and Daryl Worthington
100.
Tara Busch’s score for Travis Stevens’ Jakob’s Wife is as insidiously subversive as the film itself, with its take on vampirism and the modern marriage. Of course, it’s wonderfully haunting, especially when utilising a ghostly female vocal over layered synthesisers or instruments that sound as if they’ve been decaying for hundreds of years, but there’s also an undercurrent of black humour; think Ennio Morricone raiding the equipment of the BBC Radiophonic Workshop. And then there’s her outrageously filthy cover of Concrete Blonde’s ‘Bloodletting (The Vampire Song)’ that reminds us of what most vampire films are about: fucking.Tara BuschJakob’s Wife (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)Lakeshore
99.
Leven Signs, AKA Pete Karkut and Maggie Turner, recorded this album in a shithole London flat with hardly any equipment or recourse to supportive scenes. They would in time locate peers of sorts: Hemp Is Here was released on Cordelia, a label servicing the whims of transatlantic mid-’80s wackos including R Stevie Moore and the mind-frying Rimarimba. Here, they slither through pastures of sampladelic DIY dub, electro-folk and ethno-dance without it ever being obvious who they were listening to. I get flashes of Muslimgauze, Normil Hawaiians, Young Marble Giants and Psychic TV at various points during this album, but that honestly doesn’t get us that close to the nub. It was the last Leven Signs release to date, but in a world saturated with goons telling you that all manner of inexplicable musical one-offs are special… this one actually is.Leven SignsHemp Is HereFutura Resistenza
98.
Recorded towards the end of a months-long run of shows across Australia and New Zealand – following a year-long, COVID-19-enforced break from club and festival DJing – this three-hour Ben UFO set distills everything that clubbers have come to love from the Hessle Audio label co-founder. “At [Friendly Potential’s] request I tried to play with the energy of the old Sunday night sessions at FWD>>, and it was so fun,” the DJ said of the set. “Old and new music side by side. Spinbacks at 2008 levels.” Dipping through UK garage, grime, dubstep, UK drill and jungle, and expertly placing those sounds alongside various current techno cuts as you might expect from him, it’s a recording that’s certainly not shy of a few modern club classics, and the catharsis in getting to play such cuts after so long away from the club is palpable in the recording.Ben UFOAt Friendly Potential, WellingtonN/A
97.
Originally released by I.R.S. Records in 1981, the sole album by Long Beach, California post-punkers, Suburban Lawns, has remained hard to find despite being periodically reissued. Formed by CalArts students William “Vex Billingsgate” Ranson and Sue “Su Tissue” McLane (from Minneapolis), Suburban Lawns enjoyed a brief moment of notoriety when the Jonathan Demme-directed music video for their 1979 debut single, ‘Gidget Goes To Hell’, aired on Saturday Night Live. Although the received wisdom is that the Su Tissue-fronted songs are far superior to those sung by the other, male band members, there’s still plenty to enjoy no matter who is on vocal duties. Su Tissue’s uber-cool deadpan delivery is utterly perfect for the band’s Devo, B-52s, Talking Heads and Television-influenced sound, however, and it is true to say that her voice features prominently on all their best songs. ‘Gossip’, ‘Janitor’ and ‘Green Eyes’ are new wave classics that deserve to be heard by all with an interest in the genre. The only downside of this release is that it omits one of the band’s best songs, ‘Flavour Crystals’, from the 1983 EP, Baby, which currently retails on Discogs for anything between £50 and £100. Suburban LawnsSuburban LawnsSuperior Viaduct
96.
One of five albums Sun Ra released in 1978, Lanquidity is often cited, perhaps more than any other album, as being the one that first opened the door to appreciation of his music. A gorgeous-sounding studio recording of a 17-piece band, including two guitarists, Lanquidity exhibits elements of jazz-fusion, funk and R&B. ‘Where Pathways Meet’ has an unstoppable swagger to it, whilst ‘That’s How I Feel’ was sampled by a number of other artists, including Marcel Foley and Yatha Bhuta Jazz Combo.Sun RaLanquidity (Definitive Edition)Strut
95.
Comprising original music, covers and spoken sketches, contributions to this hour-long audio collage come from the likes of Acid Granny, Robbie Kitt, Jennifer Moore, Davy Kehoe, Eimear Walshe and more. Amid the dialogue and in-store sounds, there’s weird electronics and Gregorian chants, ad jingles and folk songs, a robotic cover of ‘On Raglan Road’ and a disorienting national anthem mash-up. At face value, it’s pure escapism. Scratch beneath the surface though, and you’re confronted with something more considered: a half-joked suggestion that, in the post-Celtic Tiger landscape, somewhere like Lidl can hold as much significance for young creative communities as any state-sanctioned cultural institution. It may sound strange, but take a trip through the daft aisles of this tape and tell me you’re not a little convinced.The Ecliptic NewsletterLidl Museum Of Ancient And Contemporary Art Audio TourThe Ecliptic Newsletter
94.
A big bundle of dancefloor-targeted fun that collects tracks from a diverse – in every sense – group of French producers. Nadsat straddles the neo-gabber of Paul Seul and Von Bikrav, Evil Grimace’s ‘Frapcore’ (French rap plus hardcore techno) track ‘Délinquance’ (featuring a vocal from French rap veteran Sefyu) the irresistibly sultry groove of Boukan label head Bamao Yendé’s and Le Diouck’s ‘Okocha’, Crystallmess’s slamming ‘Issa Revenge’, the chunky, club-friendly hip-hop of Nyoko Bokbae’s ‘Amoublem’ and Ascendant Vierge strapping hard trance thrusters to Mylène Farmer-style pop for ‘Discoteca’.NadsatNadsatNadsat
93.
Death Is Not The End are on a mission to expand the musical archive, with compilations of everything from Jamaican doo wop to pirate radio idents and adverts weaving new threads into the history of music. Longing For The Shadow: Ryūkōka Recordings, 1921-1939 goes back to the beginnings of the recording industry in Japan, and a style merging traditional Japanese forms with western pop and classical. Swooning orchestrations and prominent vocals capture some of the melodrama and bombast found in US and European music of the time, but beds of plucked and strummed instruments give an ordered elegance, tying it firmly to Hogaku tradition. Not much has been written about Ryūkōka, and a 2017 book by Hiromu Nagahara gives some clue as to why, arguing that although popular with the public, it was dismissed by critics both for its adoption of western sounds and its dwelling on Japanese traditional styles. Close to a century later, those are some of the qualities that make this compilation so fascinating.Various ArtistsLonging For The Shadow: Ryūkōka Recordings, 1921-1939Death Is Not The End
92.
Daniel Hart has been steadily composing fantastic scores for the films of David Lowery for nearly a decade now, and his music for medieval mythmaker The Green Knight may just see his talents finally recognised. It’s a fascinating score where you can either allow yourself to be swept away by the typically spine-tingling melodies and Middle English poetry or you can examine the intricate colours and textures coming from Hart’s choice of instruments, from the nyckelharpa to the Prophet REV2 synth. Electronics may not be the obvious choice to most for the soundtrack to a film like this, but that’s just the kind of thing that makes Hart’s score stand out.Daniel HartThe Green Knight (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)Milan
91.
I just imagined some bitter BITD whopper angrily refusing to listen to The KLF’s quietly ushered out, shimmering and timely ‘fix’ of Chill Out because it doesn’t contain the Tommy Vance sample and now I can’t stop laughing. This year’s version of the 1990 post-club staple, of course, is languidly brilliant (apologies to Tommy V, Elvis, Acker Bilk and Fleetwood Mac who don’t make the cut, presumably due to copyright issues). It takes as its origin point not Brian Eno’s ambient albums of the ‘70s but his Apollo: Atmospheres And Soundtracks from 1983, which set the convention of the lap steel as cosmic psychedelic signifier. And then the real trip across the astral plains of the Americas really gets going.The KLF, The Justified Ancients Of Mu MuCome Down DawnKLF Communications
90.
The Wild World Of Psychic Hotline works equally well as swansong and introduction to Psychic Hotline. Throughout, Special Interest’s Ruth Mascelli challenges our ideas of what punk could and should be. By using drum machines, synths, and keyboards, they craft iridescent lo-fi pop that still has passion and power. Of course this is nothing new, but in Mascelli’s hands it does feel exciting and subversive. If Psychic Hotline is over then Mascelli can feel proud to leave a strong body of work.Psychic HotlineThe Wild World Of Psychic HotlineDisciples
89.
Hulkingly large digital compilation of weird electronics jointly devised by the Bristolian label/collective/organism Avon Terror Corps and a self-described countercultural festival in Palestine; it costs a tenner, all of which will go straight to the Palestinian Medical Relief Society. These sorts of charitable Bandcamp enormities often end up feeling fatiguing, frankly, but a really high quality is maintained over three hours here. A wealth of Bristol heads (Harrga, Ossia), plus buds from further afield, stand with multiple Palestinian producers who were mostly new to me and consistently exciting.Various ArtistsResist To Exist قاوم لِوجودكAvon Terror Corps
88.
Across 60 minutes, Perko’s entry in the Dimensions mix series sees him explore a slippery sweet spot between peculiar IDM and hulking halftime drum & bass, the set’s early stages seeing a foggy post-punk-esque cut from The Modern Institute giving way to an airier, percussive roller by Marco Shuttle and then on to Homemade Weapons’ distinctive razor-sharp breaks. From there, the Copenhagen-based DJ and producer moves through jungle, D&B, dancehall and a volley of trippy, sub-100 BPM club cuts that prove you don’t need higher tempos to lock a dancefloor into a hypnotic groove.PerkoDIM249N/A
87.
Where there are organising principles in this set, they seem to vary as necessary. Play the collection straight through to a newcomer and they might naturally assume due to the first disc that general piano improvisation might be the rule of thumb. But then the second disc introduces carefully structured, but not locked down, synthesized work from the 1980s, invoking the Australian First Nation term ‘dreamtime’ and suggesting, however secondhand, other perceptions of fluid time, other visions of music’s function, the ‘natural’ sound of the unnatural and perfected-over-time piano giving way to another unnaturalness aiming to invoke the natural. Piano remains the main focus throughout but the various electronic explorations and innovations, as well as the introductions of full ensembles and other collaborations, keep the sense of magpie variety fresh.“Blue” Gene TyrannyDegrees Of Freedom FoundUnseen Worlds
86.
This welcome re-release of the five-vinyl box, and first time on CD, of the tenth anniversary of The Long Goodbye bills itself as ‘an essential document of a singular moment in the history of LCD Soundsystem and New York City’s musical life’, and really, a decade on we can see that it really was a farewell to an era. It rids itself of the baggage of the 2000s by becoming a requiem for a cultural time, an epilogue to a movement. It sheds the attendant hangers on, copyists and coat-tail tuggers and elevates LCD ever further into the pantheon of the greats. The Long Goodbye is that rarest of things – a perfect live album that you would willingly play more than once, putting it alongside Live After Death, Minimum Maximum, No Sleep Til’ Hammersmith and Stop Making Sense.LCD SoundsystemThe Long Goodbye: LCD Soundsystem Live At Madison Square GardenDFA / Parlophone
85.
Bambounou’s contribution to the SPANDAU20 mix series is a full-throttle hour-long joyride through skitterish polyrhythms, rude basslines and unashamedly functional techno. Mixed with majestic precision, it’s a neat insight into what you could expect to hear from the French DJ and producer during a standard weekend set at one of Europe’s best clubs.BambounouSPND20 MixtapeN/A
84.
MagmaSimplesMusic On Vinyl / Seventh
83.
As always with Coil, Love’s Secret Domain is about more than music; it’s an exploration of what it meant, in 1991, to be a deeply inquisitive consciousness, all channels on, all bandwidths open, trapped in a human body and surrounded by the joy, anger and madness of existence. It’s a palimpsest of an incredibly potent time for London’s underground cultures, a mindmap of spaces, now largely lost, that I was discovering for myself as a teen: from music shops – Ambient Soho and Sister Ray on Berwick St in Soho, Vinyl Experience in Camden, with the motorcycle permanently crashed through its window, Rough Trade off Covent Garden, and on Talbot Rd in Notting Hill, around the corner from the Powys Square house where Performance was shot, and where, for many years, a Coil poster of a teenaged boy with electrodes running into his Y fronts hung threateningly above the counter (Teenage Lightning indeed); indie cinemas like The Scala in Kings Cross and The Metro on Rupert St; live music venues, Subterania on Ladbroke Grove, the Mean Fiddler in Harslden, the George Robey in Finsbury Park; club nights like Club Dog, Rage and Megatripolis at Heaven, Hardclub at Gossips on Dean St, and queer worlds, unknown to me at the time, like Trade and FIST.
